


i could be your perfect disaster

by Lire_Casander



Series: in this broken beautiful mess [1]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt!TK, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: tk’s clumsiness ruins yet another night, or does it?
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: in this broken beautiful mess [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989202
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	i could be your perfect disaster

**Author's Note:**

> beta’ed by [Meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds/meloingly). any remaining mistakes are my own
> 
> title from _ever after_ by marianas trench
> 
> written for [tk strand week 2020](https://tkstrandweek.tumblr.com/post/623797377206255616/welcome-to-tk-strand-week-2020-please-join-us-in), **_day 1: “youʼre too cute when you pout” + fluff + favorite line/scene_**
> 
> written for **_twisted ankle_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)

TK huffs from his spot on the couch, left foot propped up on some cushions, as he hears Carlos puttering around in the kitchen. 

“I can hear you thinking from here!” Carlos calls out among noises of pans being taken out of their places and the kitchen coming to life. 

TK can imagine the picture — his boyfriend preparing one of his infamous dishes while humming under his breath the latest Maluma song, chopping some ingredient or another, the clattering sound of the knife in sync with the tune heʼs trying to replicate. Only this time, instead of singing, Carlos seems eerily silent except for the occasional grunt as he swears when something that sounds like a spatula falling hits the floor. 

TK knows it's his fault. He knows they were supposed to be out celebrating. Instead they're trapped back home, with one foot up higher than the rest of his body and a stash of non-opioid painkillers to last him an eternity. He canʼt blame Carlos for being mad and taking it out on the pans. 

“TK,” Carlos says, head popping out of the kitchen door. “Iʼm serious here, just relax. I know it hurts, but that's what those meds are for. Gimme a moment to put something together for a late dinner and I'll be out here with you in no time.” 

“Iʼm sorry,” he replies, even if he knows that Carlos can't hear him over the noises in the kitchen. “Iʼm sorry for ruining our anniversary.” 

TK sinks back further into the couch, closing his eyes as the pain in his ankle flares up. He hadn’t planned for this outcome when he had been dressing up for their one-year anniversary dinner at one of Austinʼs fanciest restaurants. He definitely hadnʼt planned on ruining Carlosʼ night by letting his foot get caught in some void in the middle of the street — who leaves a working site unattended where pedestrians can stumble into it, he muses as he massages his temple — and the subsequent visit to the hospital when TK had tried to walk after falling to the ground and he simply _couldn’t_. 

“You haven't ruined anything, Ty,” Carlos tells him, stepping out of the kitchen. Heʼs wiping his hands on a cloth when TK opens his eyes to stare at him; his baby blue shirt is halfway unbuttoned, showing off the pecs TK loves to roam with his hands and his tongue. He’s holding a plate with something that looks like pancakes on it — TKʼs mouth is watering at the mere idea of breakfast for dinner. “Stop beating yourself up. It was an accident.” 

TK laughs humorlessly. “Why are you even around anymore?” he says, letting his bitterness seep through his words. “I keep spoiling everything, you should find yourself someone who isn’t so accident prone that he manages to give himself a twisted ankle as an anniversary gift.” 

Carlos chuckles. He throws the cloth over his shoulder and drops the plate on the coffee table before he saunters to the couch, flopping down beside TK without touching his foot. He leans in to ruffle TKʼs hair playfully. “You’re too cute when you pout,” he laughs. 

“I am _not_ pouting!” TK exclaims. His words are soon contradicted by his lower lip sticking out in a trembling manner. 

Carlos laughs it off, one hand already up to caress TKʼs cheek while the other sneaks around TKʼs waist. “Yes, you are,” he insists. “But I love it anyway.” He closes the space between them to kiss TK slowly, purposefully. 

TK allows himself to get lost in the feeling of Carlosʼ lips on his, moving lazily as though they have no care in the world and all the time they need to get reacquainted with each other after the night they’ve had. The memory of the fall, how he’s landed on his face on the street, brings TK back to the present circumstances and he breaks the kiss. 

“How do you even put up with my clumsy ass?” he questions. He tries to put some space between them, and in doing so he moves his leg. There’s a shrill of pain threatening to cut his foot in half, and he has to bite down his groan. “Iʼm always ruining things.” 

Carlos shakes his head. He attempts to touch TK again, but TK manages to flinch away and Carlos simply stares down at him with a soft light in his eyes. “TK,” he begins. 

TK isn’t having any of this nonsense. He wants Carlos to acknowledge that their night should have gone on a different route — maybe they could have even been having sex right now, if he hadn’t needed help getting back on his feet after tripping over the edge of the working site. “Honestly, Carlos, how do you put up with me? I can't even stand myself most of the time.” 

“I guess it has to do with the fact that I love you,” Carlos says seriously. “More than you love yourself, _especially_ when you don't love yourself. This was an accident, and it could have been me, you know. It wasn't even signposted properly. If I had been the one going on first, it would have been me.” 

“But it wasn't,” TK mumbles. “And now you're stuck with me not being able to do anything for at least a week because I have sprained my ankle being a klutz.” 

“Don't you think that's enough talking badly about my boyfriend for one night?” Carlos insists. There’s an urgency in his voice when he speaks that TK soon picks up on. “We could be doing so many things right now. It’s our anniversary after all.” 

TK smiles for the first time since twisting his ankle and the following trip to the hospital. He’s certain that Carlos is just messing with him — the doctor has said that he canʼt do any strenuous exercise and TK may have had enough of that bullshit already, but doctors know better — and heʼs ready for his boyfriend to cheer him up. “Huh? What kind of things should we be doing, anniversary boy?” he asks playfully. 

“Eating dinner, for example,” Carlos answers, pecking TK shortly on the lips before straightening his back up. He reaches for the plate and settles it between them; that's when TK notices the two forks on it. 

“You’ve thought of everything,” he marvels. “What did I do to deserve someone like you?” 

Carlos blushes ever so slightly, his olive skin flushing with a shade of pink that TK loves. 

It isn’t the first time he catches himself thinking about how much he loves Carlos Reyes, and heʼs certainly been very vocal about his feelings after the night of the Northern Lights, but the depth of his own emotions always takes him by surprise. 

He picks up his fork with shaky fingers that he canʼt control. Carlos frowns at him. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Let me go grab your meds, the doctor said—” 

“Carlos, stop,” TK cuts him before he can rise up from the couch. “Here, Iʼm fine. It hurts, but I am _fine_. Just stop worrying. It's more embarrassing than painful.” 

“I just don't want you to hurt, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” TK reassures him. “Just stay? Cuddle with me?” 

Carlos doesn’t reply immediately. He takes the plate out on the coffee table once again, pancakes practically untouched, and he pries TKʼs fork from his hand as well before readjusting his position on the couch so heʼs holding TK in between his arms. Silently, he begins running his fingers up and down TKʼs arms, peppering his face with slow kisses just the way TK loves. 

“How are you even real, Carlos Reyes?” he wonders out loud. “You always know what I need, even when I myself don’t.” 

“You do the same for me,” Carlos explains. He never stops touching TK. “I guess we make a pretty good team.”

TK beams at his own words being thrown back at him with so much love laced in them that he thinks his heart might combust. “Afraid so,” he mumbles lowly, the exhaustion from the night they’ve had finally catching up with him. 

He allows his eyes to flutter closed, the thrumming of Carlosʼ voice lulling him to sleep as he falls into slumber with a smile on his lips and the promise that they can always celebrate their anniversary any other year. 

It's not like TK is planning to stop loving Carlos anytime soon.


End file.
